


empty

by lester_sheehan



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, it's v experimental but... we deal w this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lester_sheehan/pseuds/lester_sheehan
Summary: Cicero at Formiae during the days leading up to his death. A short drabble.





	empty

the air is cold and still and raw and it whips against cicero’s face as he stands on the shoreline and wonders how his life came to this.

he reaches down, grabs the sand between his fingers. it rests in his palm like ash. he lets it fall, trickling like blood from nails or water through rock or tears across skin. the water rushes in his ears. louder and more forceful with each second that passes. a lingering, whispering, aching rush. a rush that drains him. the sand has gone. his hand is empty. he brushes it against his tunic before standing. the sand has gone but the noise is still there. it rattles against his brain and murmurs macabre, deadly, terrible thoughts. the moon is shining. it looks like the tears of gods. he wonders what it must feel like to be divine, to live a life without death hanging over your shoulder, following your every movement with his bottomless, empty eyes. is that a life? it must be. but it is not the same.

there’s a shuffle against the sand, the sound of tiny feet. he lowers his gaze but the creature has gone. he looks back at the villa. it is small against the night sky. is atticus awake? no, why would he be awake? perhaps he is dreaming. perhaps all is black. cicero contemplates walking back there. he wants to slip into the room like a shade. the bed would be soft and warm. atticus’ arms would be even more so. they could talk—no, that would not be fair. he could be silent. they could enjoy each other’s presence and sleep soundly amidst the danger, their intertwined bodies a shield against the thunder and the rain. against the sound of death that drops steadily across the beach, across the water, until it falls into their laps and they cannot be rid of it. he tips his head back and closes his eyes. there is a slight breeze. he can feel it against his cheek. it is not unpleasant.

my daughter, he thinks, i shall be with you soon.

his eyes open and his hands are empty and the noise is still there and atticus is asleep and he is alone.


End file.
